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... ith that, she reached out her hand again and carefully swept the snow off Hong Yao.

“He’s not good to you at all. Why are you still following him…” Tuan Zi’s lips trembled slightly. “Aren’t you angry that he treated me like that before? Don’t be with him…”

More and more tears fell. It was cold to the touch.

Her fingertips trembled slightly.

The claws of Hong Yao were still tightly gripping Mu Qinghe’s clothes, as if it refused to let go.

Tuan Zi tried and ...

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His hair was ebony black, his skin a warm brown that threatened to fade in in the winter months. He stared at her with glittering green eyes, over high cheekbones and a noble nose, his jaw tight and shadowed this late in the day. His chin was high over the pillar of his neck that she’d just touched with its hard lines and steel strength, so different to her own. And his chest... She gasped and covered her eyes. She’d humiliated herself revealing her stupid, childish curiosity.

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She had met her One. And he was the son of her bloodsworn enemy.

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She couldn’t resist. She raised a trembling hand to his cheek, letting her palm catch on the scruff of his jaw. He blew out a breath and put his hand over hers, and that jolt that happened whenever they touched shivered through her again.

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